Thank You
by ailaxolotl
Summary: I don't speak, but he knows the words are there.


**A/N: **Hey guys! Let's see how many of you are thirsting for my blood. Man, it's been a while...heh...

Anyways, I guess you could call this a side story for FOTP. I don't think I'm going anywhere with it, but hey! Something's better than nothing, right?

* * *

It hurts. My feet hurt from running so hard. My legs are sore, my eyes are puffy, but most of all, it feels like I've been stabbed in the heart. _Everything hurts_.

_"Damn it!" _I mash my palms against my cheeks, furious that I'm crying, furious that this _hurts so much_ even though we haven't been dating for a month now.

But he was _kissing _her.

I don't even have to say the password when I reach the Head Dormitory painting; Elizabeth takes one look at me, titters, and the painting becomes a door that I shove open and slam behind me, sucking in my tears and heading straight for my room, ignoring a very shocked Tom propped up on the couch.

"Hey, you alr-" but my door is already closed and I'm screaming into a blue pillow that's far too bright and happy for my mood. I scream a while more and transition into a technique my mom taught me when I was mad at the girls who picked on me in primary school. _One. Breathe in. Two. Breathe out. Three. Breathe in. Four. Breathe out…._

I get to twenty-three before there's a timid knocking at my door. "You okay in there?"

"Just go away. I'm not in the mood." _He was kissing her and not me._

"Yeah, I can tell you're not quite in the mood for anything."

"Piss off, Riddle. Didn't you ever learn to respect boundaries?"

He's quiet for a few moments. "Yeah, I learned, but that doesn't mean I really absorbed any of it." And then he opens my door and enters my room.

"Get out! Get out get out _GET OUT!" _but he's taking steps forward and I sit up on my bed and he's within arms' length so I punch him but he doesn't even flinch and _I hurt_ so I punch him again and again until I run out of energy and I'm just weakly slapping his shoulder which I realize I've probably been doing the whole time and it's no wonder he doesn't even look like he's in pain.

Well, no. He does look like he's in pain, but I don't think it's because I was hitting him. I punch him once more but it's not satisfying anymore because _they were kissing and he was smiling._ My arms go limp, and I can feel pressure building up under my eyes. I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry in front of Tom Riddle. I'm not going to cry over a stupid boy in front of the enemy, an arse, a boy who waltzed into my room, a boy who's trying (and failing) to comfort me, a friend?

There are too many emotions roiling under my skin. I feel like a balloon filled with air to the breaking point, so tense and ready to snap but just barely unable to do anything but hope for some kind of resolution-

_He looked so happy._

The tears fall like rain. I lean forward and press the crown of my head against Tom's chest. I can feel his heartbeat quicken, his breath catch, sense his arms preparing to gently push me away and leave me here alone. _No_, I want to say, but something in my throat stops working for a moment and his hands are grasping my arms, removing my head from his chest.

_"No!"_ Tom flinches and gives me the most confused look I've seen in a long time. "No, no, just…please, stay with me, I just can't be alone right now and I need someone, _anyone_, so please, _please don't leave."_

His grasp loosens, so I collapse back down onto his shirt, clutching at his robes, and some animal part of me pulls itself out of my stomach and into my throat, making me sob and whimper and make pitiful snuffling noises. Tom doesn't move much except to place a hand on my back and rub small circles.

_One. Breathe in. Two. Breathe out. Three. Breathe in. Four…_ I try to focus on the circles and breathing. There is nothing more in the world besides my jagged breath and the feeling of a hand on my back. "I'm sorry," I find myself saying after fifty-six deep breaths. "I'm sorry. I messed up your robes and you were probably busy and I just barged in and I'm sorry."

He doesn't quite laugh, but manages something like a chuckle. "You have no reason to apologize." The small circles stop and his hand begins to warm my back, filling it up again with something I must have lost. "After all, haven't you heard the phrase? Love is hard, when you're young." He kisses the top of my head, sending shivers of warmth down my spine. "I won't leave. Not until you ask me to."

I don't speak, but he knows the words are there.

_Thank you._


End file.
